Crime of Privilege

Stephanie, despite her seeming lack of savoir faire, scared a lot of people. She had an edge to her, and while she did not say much, she tended to stare at other people rather intensely, as though she was waiting for some criticism that she knew was probably justified and for which she was already pla

She and Mitch had a son, a broad-shouldered twelve-year-old with a toothy smile. One could only assume that Stephanie had large brothers, because the boy had a lot bigger frame than either of his parents. They dressed him up in a tie and one of Mitch’s short-sleeved white shirts and had him serve nonalcoholic drinks on a tray. There were local wines, one red and one white, but they were on a card table in the backyard and partygoers had to go find those themselves and then pour them into plastic cups.

It was Marion’s first introduction to the attorneys in my office and when they discovered where she worked she became the most popular person at the party. Later, she would tell me she couldn’t understand why I didn’t have more friends among my co-workers. Such fun people, she said, so convivial.

Shortly after 9:00, when Marion had drunk most of what was available to drink and pried herself away from those desperately craving a Boston job with a prestigious law firm, she sidled up to me and asked me to come with her. I had been thinking it was time to leave, but she wanted me to accompany her to the second floor. People had been going up and down the staircase all evening because there was only one bathroom on the first floor and I figured she wanted me to guard the door so she could use the facility upstairs. I didn’t think that was necessary, but I had nothing else to do, so I went.

Once on the second floor, however, Marion wanted me to go into the bathroom with her. She looked up and down the hallway, determined no one was watching, and pulled me by the wrist. “Here,” she said, locking the door behind us. The same look was in her eye that she had shown after she had fooled the cops in Old Town.

“What?” I said, hoping she didn’t really mean it.

She turned, positioned herself over the sink and in front of the mirror. She did not touch the faucets, she just pointed her hands outward, placing one on each side of the sink, and gri

When I did not react, she leaned farther forward, moved both hands to her hips, and slowly raised her skirt all the way up until it exposed her ass. She was wearing a satin thong. A skimpy, cherry-colored thong. Her mouth opened, her teeth flashed in the glass. “You like?”

“Marion, we can’t do that in here.” But I was staring at the thong, the way it disappeared between the rounded mounds of flesh.

“Fucking in your boss’s house,” she whispered hoarsely, looking over her shoulder. “What could be better?”

“Put your skirt down, Marion.” But I was still looking at her ass, still imagining where that tiny piece of cloth was going.

“Come on, Georgie—it will be fun.” She leaned even farther forward. She began to grind her hips one way and then another.

“Jesus, Marion,” I said, my heart beating, sweat forming on my lip. “Get dressed. I’ve got to work with these people.” I put my hand on the door handle, looked into the mirror, and saw the disappointment on her face.

It was, I recalled as I sat on the hillside above the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, the begi

3

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IEXPECTED WE WOULD TALK THAT FIRST NIGHT ON THE RIVER, but a makeshift bar had been set up and the booze kept flowing after di

Bo

THE NEXT DAY I was told I was in Bo

We broke for lunch and had elaborate sandwiches that we put together from an extensive smorgasbord of meats and cheeses and condiments, chased down by cans of beer, and then in the afternoon we hit the rapids. There was an oar boat ahead of us being ma

Bo

We hit something hard and it jarred all five paddlers into the middle of the boat as another huge wave hit us like a car crash. I crawled back to my position in the front and tried to paddle, tried to get a rhythm, but I seemed to be the only one doing it. Wave after wave rolled into and under us and in between swells my paddle was grabbing nothing but air. We were up for an instant and then plummeted down into a depression as suddenly as if we were on a roller coaster and once again the left side caught and snapped straight upright. There was a cry behind me and first one paddler and then another flew out of the boat. “Grab them,” yelled Bo